


black cat, red ribbon

by magnificentbirb



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spirits, Angst, Bear Spirit Jongho, Cat Spirit San, Dark But Weirdly Not As Dark As Originally Intended, Gen, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbirb/pseuds/magnificentbirb
Summary: The sound of shattering glass brought him here.Jongho pays a visit to an old friend.
Relationships: Choi Jongho & Choi San
Comments: 20
Kudos: 45





	black cat, red ribbon

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by ateez's performance of "black cat nero" on immortal songs, specifically that very first part of the choreo, with jongho and san...
> 
> yep. owo
> 
> enjoy~!

_ You are my cute black cat _

_ A red ribbon will look great on you _

_ But if you get mad _

_ You will scratch and hurt others _

*

The sound of shattering glass brought him here.

Jongho stands in the doorway, watching as San’s shoulders heave, drawing in gasping breaths, gratingly loud against the nighttime sounds coming in from beyond the window, the low chirp of crickets, the gentle patter of rain against leaves.

Jongho steps forward, and he sees San go tense. San’s back is to him, broad shoulders hunched, slumped on the floor in front of the full length mirror. There is blood on the glass, cracks spiderwebbing out from a point of impact, creating a kaleidoscope of San’s reflection. Jongho can see San’s face even from here, even in the darkness—the dull gleam of his eyes, following Jongho’s approach in the broken reflection; the hollow shadows on his cheeks; the smear of bloody crimson on his lips.

Jongho’s footsteps fall softly on the lacquered wood of San’s room. He meets San’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection, and his heart thrills at the defiance he finds there, a banked fire Jongho thought was doused years ago. Jongho smells the warm copper scent of the blood on San’s knuckles, feels a familiar hunger rise within him, sleepily rearing its bloodthirsty head. Spirit blood always smells different, headier; it’s enough to make the base ursine instincts inside Jongho rumble to life.

San watches him from beneath lowered brows until Jongho stands right behind him, looming over San in the darkness. 

“I see you’re awake,” Jongho says, quietly.

“How long has it been this time?” San asks.

“A few decades, I’d guess,” Jongho says. 

San lets out a tremulous breath, runs his bloodied hand over his face, through his dark, sweat-stained hair. In the shattered reflection, Jongho catches the twitch of two black pointed ears perched atop San’s head, swiveled back in discontent, there and then gone again.

Jongho places a hand on San’s shoulders. San twitches at the contact, trying to flinch away, but Jongho curls his fingers into the loose material of San’s robe, holding him fast.

“You know I can’t let you leave,” Jongho says, his voice low.

San’s eyes slide closed, just for a moment.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, I wouldn’t—I won’t hurt anyone anymore, I can control it, I—”

“San.” Jongho lets some of his power bleed into his voice, allowing that single syllable to resonate; he feels the moment it catches hold of San, feels the way San shivers and goes pliant, his will starting to bend. “You’re still being punished. And you’re clearly not ready to be let out just yet.” The blood on the mirror catches Jongho’s eye, and for a second he sees a flash of bloodied streets, corpses strewn like fallen leaves, and San standing above it all, eyes flashing, face spattered with gore. Jongho shifts his hand from San’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, tightening his grip. “You know what I have to do.”

San meets Jongho’s gaze in the mirror, looking wretched, and Jongho wonders what he sees. A looming silhouette with glowing amber eyes and rounded ears and claws so large they could kill a mortal in a single swipe? Or the human form of a heartbroken spirit, who used to just be his friend?

“Do they all know?” San’s voice is desolate, choked.

“Wooyoung sensed you first,” Jongho says. “Hongjoong had to paralyze him to keep him from running here on his own. But yes.” Jongho squeezes the nape of San’s neck. “They all know.”

San squeezes his eyes shut, his hands curling into fists on the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know, hyung.” The word slips out too easily, an accident; it slices Jongho open on its way out, leaving him flayed bare. “I’ll tell them.”

San meets Jongho’s gaze in the reflection again, and Jongho’s gut twists. As wrecked as San looks now—hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, blood streaked across his skin, barely a shadow of the great feline spirit he once was—this is still as close to his old self as he ever appears, and Jongho misses him terribly.

He can’t put this off any longer.

Jongho slides his hand up from San’s neck into his hair, gripping tight. He tugs San’s head back, forcing San to look up at him, their eyes meeting for the first time that night without the buffer of a shattered reflection between them. San struggles weakly, uselessly, an instinctive reaction to having his throat bared, but Jongho holds firm. He pitches his voice low and begins to sing, weaving the same binding spell he has cast every other time San has fought his way free of his centuries-long confinement. Jongho feels the moment the spell starts to take hold, watches with an aching heart as the fire sputters and dies from San’s eyes, as his mouth goes slack and his head grows heavy in Jongho’s grip.

As the melody wends its way to a close, Jongho gently releases his hold, letting San’s head loll forward, still conscious, but barely so. A delicate red ribbon twines into place around San’s throat, shining in the moonlight; Jongho takes the ends between his fingertips and ties it into a bow, tugging it tight just as he hits the last note of the spell, binding San’s spiritual powers for another few decades or so.

Or at least until the next time he rips himself free.

Jongho lets out a breath once it’s done, finding San’s face in the mirror again. San’s eyes are heavy-lidded, calm, the smear of blood over his lips and cheek losing some of its fierceness. Jongho settles a hand on San’s shoulder and hates that San doesn’t even flinch.

“Goodbye, hyung,” Jongho whispers. He leans down and swipes his sleeve over San’s cheek, removing the blood. San chases the contact, just barely, a dulled feline instinct, and Jongho can’t resist giving San’s dark hair one last pet, feeling the ghost of soft, twitching ears.

And then Jongho leaves, his heart in his throat, and locks the door firmly behind him.

*

**Author's Note:**

> believe it or not, this was going to be muuuuch darker, but jongho decided to make me sad instead.
> 
> thanks for reading - comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> you can also come yodel at me on twit, if you like~ ♡
> 
> [main account](https://twitter.com/aintitnifty) | [writing account](https://twitter.com/magnificentbirb)


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